


Whistle for the Choir

by virgo_writer



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Show Choir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgo_writer/pseuds/virgo_writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haymitch Abernathy clearly had it in for her.  If there was a fate worse than Glee Club, she didn't want to know what it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Actually, it's Show Choir

**Author's Note:**

> The story takes its premise from Glee, but won't be following any of the story-lines and I will try to refrain from characters randomly bursting into song. This is not a Glee-crossover.

It was, quite possibly, the most awkward moment that existed between two people in the history of human existence. An unending silence where neither dared breathe a word, else they might lose whatever battle of wills these meetings had become.

And so Haymitch Abernathy sat, silently, behind his desk half-ignoring the dark haired girl sitting on the other side half-ignoring him back.  She had taken to absently scratching her nails against the corner of his desk and the sound was starting to grate upon him.  His hands tensed that little bit more with every exaggerated tick of the wall clock, although he gave nothing away in his expression bar an unconscious tick in his cheek every few seconds.

If there had been any kind of escape possible he would have left already.  Instead he had ten more minutes to withstand of this awkward silence and a meeting scheduled every two weeks for the foreseeable future.

It was enough to break a man.

He gave a loud sigh, heavy with reluctance and exasperation, and leaned forward, his elbows against the desktop.  “Look, kid,” he began with as much patience as he could manage. She actually had the gall to glare at him. “I wanna be here about as much as you do, but unless you start talkin’ you’re just gonna have to keep comin’ here.”

She snorted disdainfully.  “That certainly inspires confidence,” she commented blandly. She pointedly fixed her gaze on the wall to the right of him, crossing her arms over her chest and slouching even further into her chair.  Absolute peach, that one.

Ignoring her unenthusiastic reply he sat up and began flipping through the folder laid out on his desk.  Her academic transcript was pretty average, although her Science grades could be better.  Additionally, it looked like she’d been enrolled in AP English, but dropped it for Junior English at the start of the semester.

On the last page was a list of school achievements and activities. This was, of course, the problem.

He closed the folder with a crisp slap that had her re-directing her gaze to him.  Her expression was bewildered and judgmental, which was apparently as good as he was going to get from her.  That was fine with him; at least now he had her attention.

“Here’s my advice,” he began in a flippant tone. “You should join Show Choir.”

As expected, her lips curled in disdain. “The Glee Club,” she translated, words dripping with acid.  “Are you on something?”

He chose not to dignify the question with a response. “You need to pad out your extra-curricula activities so as to make you look like a well-rounded team player.” He waved a hand dismissively, indicating that he thought it as much a load of crock as she did – her undisguised eye-roll said as much.  Unfortunately, it was exactly the kind of crap that colleges just lapped up, so he couldn’t dismiss it entirely.

Katniss Everdeen, the student who’d been sitting in his office in near silence for the last five minutes, nearly growled in her protest. “I’m on the athletics team,” she pointed out, with extra emphasis on the word ‘team’.

He scoffed.  “The team consisting of an archer, a javelin thrower, and a . . . what exactly does Johanna Mason do on the team?”

Katniss shrugged.  Apparently it was one of life’s great mysteries.

“I do track, as well.”

“Once again, it doesn’t exactly require a team,” he replied, shaking his head.  “And we’re still talking sports.  You need to look like you have other interests.”

Following his train of thought, she sent him another disdainful lip curl.  “Like glee?” she asked saying the word as though it were something that she might accidentally catch. Heaven forbid she be infected by a bit of cheer.

He returned the look with his own sour looking sneer, even though he knew he shouldn’t.  As a member of staff he was supposed to know better than to get into a glaring match with a teenager, although the likes of Katniss Everdeen (and Johanna Mason seeing as they were on the subject) really tested his resolve.

“Like music and performance,” he offered in response, only slightly sarcastic.  “And other people.”

She glared again.  “I’m not anti-social.”

“You’re not exactly people-friendly either,” he replied. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the limp blonde locks out of his eyes.  “Look, kid,” he said, frustration weighing in once again, “you need something cultural looking on here and that’s the best I can come up with. Your next option is flower arranging, and they only get worse after that.”

Her harsh expression eased a little. “I don’t have time for another extra-curriculum activity,” she tried, changing her tactics from outright refusal to fraught persuasion.

“It won’t take that much of your time,” he assured her. “They never get past sectionals, so you’ve got about three months prep and then you’re free for the rest of the year.”

With no arguments left, she resigned herself to her fate with a muttered, “fine.”

He smiled at the small victory.  He took a glance at his watch before commenting, “You’ve got a few minutes to go see Miss Trinket before your class starts. If she’s not in the music room then she’ll be there after school.”

Picking up on the implied dismissal, she got up and left. Not even a goodbye for all his troubles.

His next student was already waiting in the hallway outside. The blonde boy watched her go, completely oblivious to Haymitch’s presence at the door until Haymitch landed his hand heavily on the kid’s shoulder, grinning to himself when the boy jumped nearly a foot in the air.

The boy spun around to face him, looking exactly like a little kid who’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He stumbled for an excuse but Haymitch just shook his head an ushered him inside, rolling his eyes when he was out of the kid’s line of sight.

He gestured to the chair in front of his desk as he walked around to the other side.  “So, Mellark,” he began, settling into his own seat, “have you given any more thought to Art School?”

* * *

There were a lot of things wrong with joining District Twelve’s Glee Club.  Chief among them was the club’s supervisor, Miss Effie Trinket, with her garishly bright outfits and her overdone hair.  And just generally being more cheerful than Katniss thought decent.  

“Actually, it’s show choir,” Miss Trinket had corrected in her high-pitched, sing-songy, perky voice.  “And call me Effie.”

So she definitely wasn’t doing that.

The Glee Club (or calling it anything but what it was) met twice a week (Mr Abernathy was clearly wrong about how taxing this was going to be on her time) on Tuesdays and Fridays.  As luck would have it, they were having an additional practice this week, which just so happened to be this afternoon.  Katniss was starting to feel like she was in some kind of set up.

At 3pm she packed up her things and made her way unobtrusively towards the music room, silently willing herself to be unseen. The last thing she wanted was for other people to find out that she’d joined the Glee Club. Under duress, mind you.

_‘I really should have gone with flower arranging,’_ she thought regretfully. It certainly couldn’t be any worse than _Glee_.   She’d clearly pissed off the wrong person in a former life. Or perhaps this life. Mr Abernathy clearly had it in for and this was some kind of punishment for a crime she didn’t remember committing. If there was a fate worse than Glee Club, she didn’t want to find out. 

She slunk to the back of the music room, hoping to go unnoticed by the gaggle of students already there.  There were about eight of them, all of various nations, creeds, and sexual persuasion, just like the TV show.  If not for Miss Trinket’s insistence on the term ‘show choir’, she’d swear that they were paying homage.

Miss Trinket breezed in before anyone could get too settled, trilling a cheerful hello before doing the absolute last thing that Katniss wanted her to do.  “Now, my dears,” she said, clutching her hands together and then flinging them out dramatically, “I’d like to introduce you to the newest member of the District Twelve Show Choir.”  She made a quick impatient gesture of Katniss to come join her at the front of the classroom, which Katniss did with not even a fraction of the enthusiasm on display from their music teacher.  Miss Trinket announced her name with a cheer and a premature applause.

The other choir members half-heartedly joined in. Miss Trinket’s disappointment was hard to disguise, but she moved on, announcing brightly that they had a new song to learn.  She waved a hand and the accompanist began dispersing sheet music around the room.

The choir let out a collective groan.

“ _Send in the Clowns?_ ” one of the girls complained.  There was three of them seated together, each representing one of the many school cliques: a preppy blonde; a nerdy African-American girl; and a goth-looking redhead.

The preppy blonde nodded, agreeing with her redheaded goth friend.  “It’s _so_ depressing.”

“We just want to sing _Don’t Stop Believin’_ , Effie,” the nerdy girl put in. The other two girls nodded once more to show their support, their expressions solemn.

Miss Trinket held up a finger and shook her head. “I’ve told you before,” she said in an exasperated tone that said she’d had this conversation _many_ times before.  “That song lacks musical complexity and any arrangement will only look tired and overdone.

“We’ll stick to real music, thank you very much,” she said, tapping her pointer finger against her own sheet music.

That was one of the other things wrong with Glee Club: Miss Trinket took it _way_ too seriously.

Also, she kind of seemed to hate Journey. Which probably explained why the Glee Club continued to be so unpopular in spite of the TV show.

“Everyone in your sections,” Miss Trinket directed, her voice sharp and shrill. 

The three girls from earlier stayed where they were and bent together over their music.  The male contingency of show choir moved from where they had been dispersed around the room, joining into mismatched pairs.  A large, scary dark-skinned boy who had been sitting with a slight looking girl, moved to where a pale boy with a brace on his leg was seated in a comfortable chair.  The remaining two boys – one Arab, one Asian; one straight, one gay – met somewhere in the middle of the room.

Katniss stayed where she was, feeling a little lost when she saw that everybody already knew their place, until Effie pointed to the slight looking girl and told her to go join Rue in the Soprano section.

“Hi, I’m Katniss,” she said as she approached the little girl, unable to find a way to introduce herself that wasn’t completely awkward.

The girl lifted her head, smiling brightly as she returned the greeting.  “I’m Rue,” she said, her hands in the curly dark hair that haloed her head.  “It’s good to finally have another Sop.”

Katniss frowned at that.  Sopranos were known for their big voices, and Katniss had to wonder where such a voice came from.  Rue looked as small and delicate as her little sister, Prim, who had just recently turned twelve and couldn’t muster enough voice to scare away the birds when they came at her veggie patch. “It’s a big part to carry by your self,” she noted.

Rue seemed to know just what she was getting at. She shrugged and put on a hapless smile. “I have five little brothers and sisters. I can be pretty loud when I want to be,” she said with a complicit grin that Katniss couldn’t help but return.

Around them the rest of the sections were huddled together in their little groups, all of them engrossed in the new music. Effie was busy with the accompanist having what looked like a very intense discussion about the music. “So . . . what exactly are we doing right now?” Katniss asked her, dropping her voice to a whisper.

Rue whispered back.  “We’re going over our parts,” she said as she pulled a pencil case out of her school bag.  She offered Katniss a pen and then nodded towards the music.

Miss Trinket joined them a moment later. “Are you enjoying show choir, Katniss?” she asked brightly, her expression eager and hopeful. “It’s so lovely to have new people.”

Katniss grimaced, struggling to find something pleasant to say that wouldn’t be an outright lie.  Out of the corner of the eye she could see Rue hiding a smile behind her hand.

“I . . . uh . . . I really like this song.”

Miss Trinket beamed at the praise.

“Lovely,” she said gleefully, clapping her hands in an excited double-clap. 

Today’s practice was thankfully only a brief meeting to introduce the new music.  Effie dismissed them all within half an hour, sending them all on their way with a reminder to work on the first two verses for Friday’s practice.

“Now, don’t forget,” she called out as the students flocked towards the exits.  “Show choir is always looking for new members.  Tell your friends.”

Katniss surely would not.

This one she was taking to the grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music references:  
> "Send in the Clowns" by Steven Sondheim from the 1973 Musical "A Little Night Music"  
> "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey from the 1981 album "Escape"
> 
> "Whistle for the Choir" by The Fratellis
> 
> Obviously I've aged some of the characters up or down to make them fit into the four year window of high school. Peeta and Katniss are Juniors. Rue is a Freshmen. I'll let you know the rest as I figure it out.


	2. Called It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Show choir is catching . . .

_“. . . It’s a new day. It’s a new life. For me.  And I’m fe -“_

“Catnip.  Have mercy.”

Katniss stopped singing abruptly and spun around to glare at her best friend, Gale Hawthorne.  It wasn’t often that Gale succeeded in sneaking up on her.

As was typical, Gale ignored her dark looks. Not surprising given that he was about twice her body mass and could easily take her in a fight (though she was scrappy and sure to get a few good hits before he took her down). “What’s with all the singing lately?” he asked as he joined her on their usual rock, slinging his bag of gear down beside him.

She paused for a moment, mentally weighing the pros and cons of any possible answer she could give.  If she told Gale to drop it he would and that would be the end of it, but she’d been keeping this secret for weeks now – nearly a whole month – and she was starting to feel like she had to tell someone. At least with Gale she could trust him not to go and tell the whole school (mostly because that would be a really weird thing for him to do given that he’d just graduated in the spring).

That didn’t make it any easier to say out loud and she stuttered a little on the words before finally just blurting it out.

“I joined a choir.”

It had taken a lot of courage for her to admit that fact to another person, especially to Gale.  So she didn’t really appreciate the fact that Gale’s first reaction was an uproarious burst of laughter that had him slapping his thigh and nearly falling off the rock he was perched on.

“Oh that’s hilarious, Catnip,” he proclaimed once he had himself under control, wiping at an imaginary tear in his eye. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.  You in a choir. You’ve gotta let me know when you’re performing – I can’t _wait_ to see that train wreck.”

She glowered at him but Gale continued to treat the information like it was the joke of the century.  “Where on earth did you find a choir desperate enough to let you in?” he teased, nudging her side.

“At school,” she answered in a prim fashion, her hands clutched together in her lap.  “I needed to pad out my extra-curricula activities with something cultural,” she added, making it clear that this was something she would not normally chose for her self.  The words were practically recited from her meeting with Mr Abernathy.

Gale snorted at the excuse, apparently unconvinced. Unfortunately that wasn’t the line of enquiry he chose to follow on with.  “What do you mean at school?” he asked, frowning to himself.  She could practically see the pieces fitting together in his mind. “I don’t remember there being a choir. The only singing I remember was . . .” The last words dropped off, a huge grin forming on his face as he put it all together.

“You joined glee.”

Her eyes narrowed and her expression turned even more sour. There was no denial, although she did push him quite forcefully and made sure that Gale _did_ fall off the rock this time.

She stood and grabbed her own bag of gear, stalking away while Gale was left sprawled on the floor, gaping in her wake. He’d catch up to her eventually – he usually did when she stormed off like that – but she had no intention of making it easy for him.

And though she swore she’d never call it anything but what it was, she threw a few words over her shoulder as a last line of defense.

“Actually, it’s show choir.”

 

* * *

 

 

The Monday that followed was no better than her weekend out in the woods with Gale.  Work was rough. She had a Spanish test fifth period that she was pretty sure she was going to fail.  And when she arrived at school that morning, Finnick Odair was waiting for her.

While most of the girls in District Twelve would be internally swooning at the sight of the (self-proclaimed) cutest boy in school artfully posed in a casual position beside their locker, Katniss just rolled her eyes and stepped around him.  She buried her head in her locker and began rummaging through the mess of textbooks and loose paper.  Hopefully if she took long enough to come out Finnick would shoo himself away.

He didn’t, of course, because Finnick was just as stubborn as she was and a lot more patient.  After about three minutes of pretending to ransack her locker Katniss was already at her limit and Finnick wasn’t even breaking a sweat.  She slammed the door shut with a loud clang before turning to glare at him.

Like Gale, Finnick did not cower to her fierce looks. He merely smiled back in a charming sort of way, or rather, a way that would have been charming if not for the mischief that shone through his sea green eyes.

Her glare hardened.

“Katniss,” he began, his voice smooth like silk. “You’ve been holding out on us.”

She let out a groan of frustration. Her day had started too early in the morning for her to be able to put up with Finnick’s flair for the dramatic.

She turned to walk away, assured in the knowledge that if whatever he was trying to needle her about was important, he’d follow behind her. Which he did.

“I don’t have time for the cryptic bullshit, Finn,” she said tiredly, not bothering to look over her shoulder to address him. “I just spent five hours sorting through dead animal parts and I’d really like to have another shower before we go to class.  So, please, just get to the point already.”

She heard him sigh, which seemed to signal his surrender. A moment later he linked his arm through hers, pulling her into a nearby alcove that offered some semblance of privacy.  His eyes darted around the hall for a few moments before he finally spoke in a low whisper. “I saw you in the music room Friday.”

Katniss sent him another glare.  “So?”

Finnick rolled his eyes and returned her glare, clearly annoyed at her for ruining his fun.  “So, you’re in the glee club.”

She hushed him frantically, searching the halls to make sure that nobody had overheard the accusation.  “It’s show choir,” she corrected for the second time in 24 hours. “And it’s not by choice,” she added. “Mr Abernathy made me join.

“What were you doing at the music room on Friday, anyways?” she asked, turning things around on him.  “Don’t you have swim practice?”

He smiled sheepishly, which was all the answer that Katniss needed.  There was a girl involved.

There was always a girl involved.  This was, after all, Finnick Odair that she was talking to.

“Who is it?” she asked exasperatedly.

“The new girl.  Annie,” he answered.  “You’ve got to introduce me.”

Katniss scoffed.  “Uh, no,” she told him.  “She’s an alto. I don’t even know her.”

Finnick looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language.  “I don’t know what that means.”

She mentally shuddered.  Apparently she was already going native.  In especially vague terms that implied little understanding of the topic, she explained the difference between an alto and a soprano, conveying as best as she could that the two sections didn’t really mix.

“You’d be better of just joining glee yourse –“

“Excellent idea, Katniss,” he agreed brightly, patting her shoulder to congratulate her clever thinking.  “I’ll go see if Jo’s interested.

“See you Tuesdays and Fridays.”

He was gone before Katniss could really process his words. There was a swagger to his step that said she’d definitely been duped, but it took her a moment to work out why.

And then she heard it.  She was practically screaming.

“You told _Johanna_!”

 

* * *

 

 

Haymitch was rather looking forward to the five minutes break between his last class and the series of college prep meetings scheduled for the rest of his afternoon.  He had big plans that mostly involved him savoring the hot coffee in his mug before it was left to go cold, and maybe grabbing a bite to eat if time permitted.

But those plans were ruined when he spotted Johanna Mason waiting outside of his office, smiling like she knew that she’d ruined something he’d been anticipating all day.

He unlocked the door with an annoyed huff, sending her a glare through the dirty blonde fringe that fell into his eyes.

“You know sometimes I think you were put on this earth solely to annoy me,” he said in a bland tone, putting his coffee down with more force than intended.  The coffee spilled over the top, a few drops splattering on the papers filling up his inbox. He glared at Johanna, convinced that she was somehow to blame for this.

“Awww, Uncle Haymitch, you know you don’t mean that,” Johanna cooed back at him, strolling in like she owned the place and reclining in the chair behind his desk.

“Not your uncle, kiddo,” he reminded her. He gestured for her to move out of his chair but Johanna just looked at him sullenly.

Haymitch knew a lost cause when he saw one.

“Was there something in particular you wanted to annoy me about?” he asked, each word dripping with caustic sarcasm. “You know I’ve got appointments to keep, so if we could hurry this along . . .”

She nodded to herself, unruffled by his attempts to move her along, and stood up slowly.  As messed up a kid as she was, there was something almost regal about Johanna Mason in that moment, her expression blank and her stare inscrutable.

“I’m watching you, Haymitch,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “I haven’t worked out what you’re up to with Katniss and the whole glee thing, but I’m onto you.”

Her eyes flashed with some unreadable emotion, and then she was back to girl he was accustomed to.  Slightly playful, but in the annoying little sister way that he’d been putting up with since she was about five-years-old. “For your sake this better be another ploy to get into Effie Trinket’s panties,” she said with an exaggerated wink.

“There is no other ploy,” he muttered in his grumpy old man voice.

Johanna grinned triumphantly.  “Called it,” she sing-songed on her way out of the room.

With Johanna gone he took back his chair and settled in for his brief reprieve, which lasted a whole minute and 30 seconds before two quick knocks on his door reminded him of his schedule.  His twelve o’clock appointment smiled sheepishly from the doorway.

“Sorry, I’m late,” he said.  “I brought cheese buns.”

Haymitch took a brief glance at his watch. It was only three minutes, but late by Peeta Mellark’s usual standards.  A couple of cheese buns from the Mellark bakery would more than appease for it.

“So,” Haymitch began, not giving the boy the time to get himself comfortable.  “Art School.”

They had the same conversation every two weeks and by now Haymitch knew both their parts by heart.  Peeta would sigh and tell him about his parents’ plans: getting a business degree, running the bakery.  In return Haymitch pointed out that you didn’t need a business degree to run a bakery, suggesting the School of Culinary Arts as an alternative.  Peeta reminded him that he’d been baking since he was a kid (still was a kid as far as Haymitch was concerned) and that culinary arts training wouldn’t be necessary.  Which as always brought them back to Art School.

“It’s just a hobby,” Peeta protested. He was looking down at his hands, refusing to make eye contact. 

“Cinna says you’re good enough for Cooper Union and that he’d personally recommend you to any school you applied to,” Haymitch stated, his voice firm. Anyone who’d ever seen his paintings knew it was more than that.  You couldn’t produce something that beautiful without it meaning something.  The kid was too talented to be wasting away in business school.

But Peeta still wasn’t looking at him and they were almost done for the day.  He reached into his second draw and pulled out a manila folder.  “At least have a look at these,” he said, sliding the folder across the desk. “Some of them even offer conjoint degrees.”

Peeta took the folder, more curious than reluctant. This was kind of a breakthrough, but it was too soon to celebrate.

 

* * *

 

Effie was even perkier than usual when Tuesday’s choir practice came around.  She practically floated into the room, singing her own accompaniment.

“My dears,” she began cheerfully, her whole body moving with uncontainable joy, “I’m happy to inform you that we have _three_ new members this practice.

“Come, come,” she said, ushering the trio to the front.

“Now, Finnick, you’ll be in Tenors with Thresh and Antonio,” she said, sweeping a hand to her left where her two Tenors were seated. “Johanna, you’ll be with Annie, Margaret, Daisy, and Mina in Altos.” She gestured to the group of four girls seated at the back.

“And finally,” she said, turning to the last of her newbies. “Delly, you’ll be here in Sopranos with Katniss and Rue.

“Oh, this is so exciting,” she announced before anyone else could get a word in.  “We finally have enough members for an all female choral.”

She stopped suddenly, clutching her hands at her breast. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in a gasp before turning to a broad smile.

“I’ll go get the Gershwin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music references:  
> "Feeling Good" by Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse made famous by Nina Simone in 1965. For some reason I'm imagining the Michael Bublé arrangement.  
> George and Ira Gershwin have composed some of the best pieces used for female choirs. There's a medley of "Someone to Watch Over Me", "The Man I Love", and "I've Got a Crush on You" that I learnt in choir which just needed to be referenced.
> 
>  
> 
> I've obviously been reading too much fan fiction because I can't help but imagine Haymitch and Johanna having a sort of brother-sister relationship.


	3. Chicago, Detroit, or Wherever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our star-crossed lovers finally meet. Or re-meet.

“My precious blueberries,” Miss Trinket greeted as she floated into the classroom in a ludicrously good mood.  The endearment was obviously a reference to today’s choice of attire – a patterned, dark blue dress-suit thing with a matching tiny blue hat. It was the sort of thing that Katniss would normally describe as ridiculous if not for the fact that a month and a half of glee club had de-sensitized her a little to Miss Trinket’s fashion choices.  They’d all gotten used to seeing her in brighter and more ridiculous outfits. Today's all blue attire was rather tame in comparison.  

Miss Trinket took her place at the front of the classroom, which was usually a sign that she had some news to share with the group. “As of today we have 8 weeks until regionals,” she announced, with a broad smile.

An actual cheer rang out from the Gleek contingency and Rue responded with an excited squeak.  Katniss grimaced and found that the remaining choir members seemed to share her enthusiasm.  She glanced towards Johanna, sharing a look before the other girl rolled her eyes and nodded her head towards the Tenors section.  The ‘oh shit’ look on Finnick’s face was kind of priceless – their airheaded friend had obviously forgotten about the fact that they’d be performing in public.

_That’ll teach him,_ she thought, rather unsympathetic towards Finnick’s plight.  Maybe next time he started chasing after a girl he’d think it all the way through.

Miss Trinket continued, seemingly unperturbed by their unenthusiastic response.  Her own excitement hadn’t seemed to wane – she was still trilling in that excited pitch with her hands fluttering around like a marionette. “In anticipation of that, today we’ll be picking the theme for our competition set,” she said, pausing to punctuate the announcement with a double-clap.  “I want everyone to contribute.  There are no bad ideas.”

One of the Gleeks raised her hand, which Miss Trinket seemed to anticipate with a shushing gesture.  “Except for re-creating any episode of that god-awful TV show,” she continued seamlessly not even needing to see which of the hands had gone up. The girl slowly, almost reluctantly, lowered her hand.

No one else offered an alternative and Katniss watched as Miss Trinket’s giddy smile seemed to tighten by the second. Eventually she sighed and approached the whiteboard.  “Perhaps I should start us off,” she said in a light tone, more forced than usual, before listing some of the ideas she’d been considering.  Show tunes.  Around the World (beside which she’d written “Whole Wide World”, “Africa”, “Down Under”, and “Boston”). Artist catalogues (“Absolutely no Madonna or Britney Spears”).  Sea Shanties.

“We could do ‘Rebellion’,” a quiet voice uttered from near the alto section.  That was Annie Cresta, the object of Finnick’s affections, who immediately ducked her head once she had their attention.  Her auburn hair fell forward as she dipped her head, curtaining her behind it like a protective veil. “Like the flag song,” she added in an even quieter voice.

“An _excellent_ idea,” Miss Trinket praised, smiling brightly at the sole voice of inspiration. She jotted a few song suggestions along side the idea, including “Another Brick in the Wall” and “Viva la Vida”. “Anyone else?”

Thresh, the dark-skinned boy that Katniss often saw accompanying Rue home after practice, suggested Motown, which received nods of support from Alex and Aleem in the Bass section.  Finnick suggested something to do with the beach, which was rather unoriginal coming from the sun-kissed, California born, water-loving, swim team captain. Rue suggested they could do something with a Medieval theme.

“Like Romeo and Juliet,” she suggested brightly before whistling the first four notes of the ‘Love Theme’.

“We could do like TV theme songs,” Johanna suggested in a flippant tone, shrugging to cement her indifference to the idea. Miss Trinket seemed to approve of Johanna’s suggestion, giving a pleased hum and then probing for ideas about people’s favourite TV themes.  They all looked at each other with confused frowns. 

“Am I seriously the only one who watches re-runs of nineties TV?” Johanna questioned, somehow managing to glare at each and every one of them before crossing her arms in a huff.

“There’s the _True Blood_ theme,” offered Daisy, the red-headed goth girl from the Gleek trio. She gave Johanna an apologetic look before adding, with more enthusiasm, “we could do Vampires or like songs with a spooky theme.”

“How about _Moulin’ Rouge_?” suggested Alex from the Bass section.  “I mean, obviously we’d have to tone down the costumes,” he added, waving a hand as though it were only a small thing, “but we could do the _Elephant Love Medley_.  It’d be awesome.”

“We’d have to tone down the costumes _a lot_ ,” Delly commented, shifting a little self-consciously. She tugged on her own clothes, as though trying to cover up an imagined her in minimal attire. “I do love _El Tango de Roxanne_ ,” she added more brightly. “We could use that as a theme.”

Miss Trinket nodded, writing faster to keep up with all the ideas.

“How about gangsters?” suggested Antonio, the other Tenor.

Miss Trinket stopped writing and spun around to look at him. “Like _Chicago.”_

“Or Detroit,” Antonio said with a shrug, trying to act cool about it.  And completely failing because he was skinny and pale and sitting between Finnick’s effortless cool and Thresh’s stoic aloofness.  “Or wherever.”

“Like the musical _Chicago_ ,” Miss Trinket replied, shaking her head at him.  Her explanation did little to clarify and they all stared at her with blank looks.  In return Effie started to look as though she was thoroughly disturbed and continued to drop phrases as though they were supposed to have meaning.  “Velma Kelly and Roxie Hart.  _Razzle Dazzle._   Trial of the Century.

“ _Come on guys, we’re gonna paint the town,”_ she sang for the group, her voice (which was actually quite pleasant when she was singing) tipping into a worried, high pitched question as she finished, “ _and All That Jazz_?

“Really?” she asked, her voice sharp and nearly frantic. “The 1975 musical _Chicago_?  They made a movie with Catherine Zeta-Jones.

“Oh dear me,” she breathed, her eyes wide and her hand to her forehead as though she were about to faint.  “Someone has been _severely_ deficient in your education.”

Miss Trinket paused, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Then she straightened her shoulders and got a determined gleam in her eyes.  “That’s our theme,” she said in a firm voice.  “And this weeks homework is for all of you to watch _Chicago_.”

The group let out a collective groan, but knew better than to try arguing with her.

“Excellent,” Effie said, applauding herself. “And I know exactly what song to start with.” She tottered over the computer in her ridiculously high shoes, opening iTunes and selecting the song.

An announcers voice filled the room.

_“And now, the six merry murderesses of the Cook County Jail in their rendition of the_ Cell. Block. Tango.”

* * *

“Are we really doing this?” Johanna questioned, her glare switching between Katniss and Finnick.  “It’s Effie.  She probably wasn’t serious about that pop quiz.”

Katniss shrugged, more interested in the scenery passing by the window than debating Effie Trinket’s sanity.  Briefly shifting his gaze from the road, Finnick sent her a dubious look and shook his head.

“This is the same Effie who just spent the week wearing a different shade of blue every day because you said Mr Abernathy liked the colour,” he reminded her.  “When is she ever not serious.”

Johanna grinned and gave herself a mental pat on the back in spite of the hint of disapproval in Finnick’s voice.  It really wasn’t her fault that Effie had taken her suggestions regarding Haymitch’s colour preferences to heart like that. She’d only meant for Effie to add a bit of blue here and there, not to go all out and buy five different outfits. Personally, Johanna thought that Tuesday’s black and blue pleated dress had probably done the trick.

“We could have just read the Wikipedia page,” Katniss suggested drolly from the back seat.

“Good thinking there, girlie,” Johanna said, turning in her seat to talk to Katniss.  “C’mon on then,” she said, her attention back on Finnick.  “Turn this pile of junk around and we’ll read a two page article instead of wasting an hour and a half of our lives watching some stupid musical.”

Finnick didn’t say a word and just kept driving, even as Johanna continued to prod him into taking them home.

“Delly invited Annie, didn’t she?” Katniss deduced from the back seat.

“Yes,” he answered simply. 

As Finnick clearly wasn’t about to take them all home, Johanna chose to spend the rest of the drive to Delly Cartwright’s house scowling at Finnick and occasionally cursing him under her breath.

“I refuse to be your wingman,” she told Finnick firmly when he pulled up to the curb of a medium sized house in one of the nicer suburbs around District Twelve High School.

Finnick shrugged.  “Katniss is better at it, anyway.”

“Please,” Johanna snorted, rolling her eyes so dramatically that her head followed through on the movement.  “If you’re gonna lie try to at least make it believable.” She slammed the door extra hard on Finnick’s precious Plymouth Barracuda just to spite him, although she only really seemed to succeed in annoying Katniss, who had to climb out through Finnick’s door instead.

The front door opened as they approached, Delly standing in the doorway waving them in.  She smiled brightly and congratulated them on being the first to arrive. Johanna didn’t see how that was any kind of achievement.

Finnick chatted away to Delly, playing his usual charming self as he thanked her the invite and hospitality.  Delly brushed it off, told him not to worry about anything and ushered them into the living room.

They were about two steps into the room when Katniss stopped suddenly, frozen in place.  Johanna had no patience for such dramatic displays.  She stepped around her friend, scanning the room to find the source of Katniss’s odd behaviour.

_A boy,_ she noted, more confused than annoyed now. She’d known Katniss for almost four years and the girl had never shown any indication of noticing the boys in their school.  At best she was nonplussed, though occasionally annoyed.  Never frozen in place.

“Who are you?” Johanna asked bluntly, eyes narrowing at the stranger.

Finnick coughed discretely – a reminder about her manners – but the boy himself didn’t seem to be bothered by her question. He put the plate he’d been handling on the table and brushed his hands on the front of a flour-dusted apron. “I’m Peeta,” he said, offering his hand.

Johanna ignored it, turning to Delly instead. “Boyfriend?” she asked, tilting her head in a bird-like manner.  There was nothing casual in her tone of voice, the question probing and deliberate and expectant of a particular answer.

Unfazed, Delly laughed at the very thought. “God no,” she said, laughing harder when her friend pretended to look offended.  “Peeta lives next door.  He was just helping me get the snacks ready.”

“Interesting,” Johanna muttered, still watching the boy with a scrutinizing stare.  She shot a quick glance towards Finnick, tipping her head towards where Katniss was continuing her statue impression.  Finnick gave a subtle nod and a quick rise of his eyebrows, letting her know that he’d understood and knew what to do.

He walked over to not-Delly’s-boyfriend and took the hand that had been offered to Johanna, pumping it in a gregarious handshake. “Will you be staying for the movie?” he asked with a winning smile.  “It comes highly recommended from our music teacher.”

The boy looked uncertain, glancing towards Delly for some kind of instruction.  She shrugged, unhelpfully, and the boy floundered.

“Finn just wants another boy around so he doesn’t feel outnumbered,” Johanna muttered, seeing as nobody else was going to help him out of the situation.  “He was almost desperate enough to ask Kit-Kat to be his wingman.”

The use of her most despised nickname managed to finally knock Katniss out of her stupor, even if it was only to glare at Johanna and ask Delly where the bathroom was.

“So,” Johanna said, bringing her attention back around to the boy with the bread and dips.  Lips pursed, she gave him a measured, disarming stare.  “You staying or what?”

He stared back at her, which earned him some kind of credit in Johanna’s books.  “Somehow I feel like I don’t have choice,” he said, giving her a slightly wary look.

Finnick laughed and slung an arm around the kid’s shoulder.  “You catch on fast,” he said sagely.  “You may just survive Jo, after all.”

* * *

“Okay, how did I not know about this movie before now?” Johanna enthused as the end credits ran.  “I mean, I could do without out the singing,” she added, waving her hand as though to dismiss that aspect of what they’d seen, “but everything else . . .”

Finnick laughed at her enthusiasm, not entirely surprised that Johanna had enjoyed the movie so much.  There was a lot to like, especially if you were Johanna who had a penchant for well-written satire (thus her _Daily Show_ addiction).  He leaned over, grinning as he whispered, “and you wanted to stay home and read the Wikipedia page.”

She poked her tongue out at him, an unusually playful response to his teasing.  Johanna had clearly enjoyed herself tonight and he was sure that nothing he said was going to put a damper on that.

He glanced around the room, checking the reaction on the rest of choir.  Alex was nodding along with Johanna’s praise, declaring that _Chicago_ had taken the place of _Moulin Rouge_ as his all time favourite musical.  Annie and Delly were gushing excitedly, Delly’s friendly and easy nature bringing the normally shy Annie a little out of her shell this evening. Even Delly’s friend Peeta seemed to have enjoyed the movie.

The only one looking less than enthused was Katniss, who’d been off all evening.  Well, really since they’d walked into Delly’s living room and found Peeta putting out the appetizers.

There was obviously something going on there, although whatever it was seemed to be all on Katniss.  Peeta hadn’t seemed at all bothered by Katniss’s presence. He’d been exactly as friendly and cordial as he’d been with the rest of Delly’s choir mates, even in spite of Katniss’s cool attitude.

Johanna shifted on the couch, leaning over the arm to join in a conversation with Delly and Annie about who would be which murderess in the “Cell Block Tango”.

“I think Johanna would be Velma,” suggested Delly. “I could definitely see you as the jealous wife killing her husband and sister.”

“I disagree,” Finnick said, leaning a little closer to the girls.  “Johanna would definitely be the one with the gum.

“If I had a dollar for every time you’ve threatened bodily harm because someone annoyed you,” he said when Johanna shot him a look, daring him to explain his reasoning. 

“Well, seeing as you’re usually the person I’m threatening with bodily harm you should be grateful I don’t own a shot gun,” she said, looking rather pleased with her answer.  He gulped, a slow deliberate motion, making the girls laugh with his show of fear.

He left them to divvy up the roles, turning his attention instead to where Alex and Peeta were talking _mise-en-scène_ and set design. The topic was a bit beyond him so he didn’t stay with it for long.  He slid off the couch, joining Katniss on the floor by the coffee table.

“What about you Kit-Kat?” he asked, employing Johanna’s earlier tactic to get her attention.  “Any thoughts on the movie?”

She glared for about half a second and then shrugged her shoulders.  “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” she answered vaguely.

“That’s hardly praise,” Finnick scoffed.

“I think it’s going to be fun,” he added, grinning broadly. He nodded towards where Johanna was laughing at Delly’s incredibly poor Brooklyn accent.  “The girls are already fighting over who gets to play Velma.”

Katniss examined the three girls for a moment before declaring, “Delly could do Velma.  Johanna would be the one with the shot gun.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Shouldn’t you be over there trying to woo Annie,” she asked, lowering her voice.

Finnick shrugged.  He’d certainly thought about it, but the girls looked like they were enjoying themselves and he didn’t want to intrude.  It wasn’t often he got to see Johanna looking so at ease with people, so he was happy to keep his distance for the time being.

“Johanna’s making friends,” he said quietly. “I’ll have my chance later.

“How about you?” he asked.  His eyes shifted deliberately to where Peeta was sketching something for Alex on a paper napkin. 

She scowled at him and shook her head. Interesting.  Maybe Peeta had done something to offend her.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked lowly, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“No,” she said, shaking her head vehemently. “Not really.”

“Alright,” he conceded, not pushing. If Katniss didn’t want to talk, then she wasn’t going to talk.  Simple as that. “So which ‘merry murderess’ do you think you’ll be cast as?”

“Hopefully none,” Katniss responded, looking appalled by the idea.

“But if you had to pick one,” he wheedled, knowing that Katniss’s hopes were most certainly going to be dashed.  Effie had been eyeing Katniss up for some kind of solo, and the murder vignettes may end up being the lesser of two evils.

She sighed, sending him a glare for making her do something so ridiculous (in Katniss’s eyes).  “The innocent one,” she decided.  “At least no one would have clue what I was saying.”

“I can kind of see you as Velma,” he noted, looking her up and down.  “I mean, she did kill two people with her bare hands.  That has Katniss Everdeen written all over it.”

Katniss rolled her eyes.  It was supposed to be a compliment.  “What about Delly then?” she asked.  “Seeing as you’ve got me for Velma.”

“Oh definitely the arsenic,” he answered without needing to give the question much thought.  “I can definitely see her as the poison type.”

Katniss said nothing in response, but suddenly began snickering under her breath.  “You’d be Lipschitz,” she teased, looking a little less sullen than she had for the majority of the evening.

He pouted at her, feigning unfair.  “That’s unfair,” he said.  “I can’t even paint.”  Katniss didn’t seem to be bothered by that fact, still insistent on his role.

“You should go talk to them,” he said a few moments later, his gaze drifting over to the group of girls once again. He nudged Katniss with his shoulder. “Instead of being the lame-o hanging out with the dips.”

Katniss lifted an eyebrow at him.  “Lame-o?” she questioned disparagingly.

He just shrugged and nudged her again. Reluctantly, she took his hint and moved to go join the other girls.  Delly immediately had Katniss involved in whatever conversation they’d moved on to, seamlessly integrating her into the group.

“It’s Delly’s super power,” commented Peeta, hovering over the table as he collected the empty dishes.  “She can make friends with anyone.”

“She might just have her work cut out for her with Johanna and Katniss,” Finnick responded, knowing how his girls could be sometimes. “Do you need a hand?” he asked and hopped to his feet.  He collected the remaining plates and followed Peeta to the kitchen.

They formed a bit of a production line, Peeta rinsing and washing while Finnick dried and stacked.  Neither said much aside from the occasionally “here you go” or “thanks”.

“You ever think about joining the glee club yourself?” Finnick asked Peeta as the last dish was dried.  He’d been trying to figure out a way to bring the topic up organically, but in the end he simply put it out there. “As Effie says, we’re always looking for new members.”

Peeta shook his head.  “My singing is almost as bad as my dancing,” he replied, chuckling to himself. “You can ask Delly to confirm.”

Well there went that plan.  He’d have to come up with another way to push Katniss into confronting whatever issue she had with Peeta. 

Then he remembered something he’d overheard when Alex and Peeta were talking sets.  “You paint, right?” he said.  Peeta nodded, looking confused by the sudden topic change.  “Maybe you could help us with some backdrops for the performance. If you’re not too busy.”

“I could probably help,” Peeta shrugged.

Finnick grinned as a new plan took hold. “You should come by practice and talk to Effie,” he suggested, keeping his tone casual.  “Are you free Tuesday?”

Peeta nodded and Finnick moved on before he had a chance to catch his breath or think about what he was agreeing to.

There was step one.  Now he just had to work on Katniss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music References:  
> "(I'd go the) Whole Wide World" by Wreckless Eric, 1977  
> "Africa" by Toto, 1982  
> "Down Under" by Men at Work, 1981  
> "Boston" by Augustana, 2005  
> "Do You Hear the People Sing?" from Les Misérables, 1980.   
> "Another Brick in the Wall Part II" by Pink Floyd, 1979  
> "Viva la Vida" by Coldplay, 2008  
> "What is a Youth" from Romeo and Juliet, 1968  
> "Bad Things" by Jace Everett, 2005  
> "Elephant Love Medley" and "El Tango de Roxanne" from Moulin Rouge (2000)  
> "All That Jazz", "Razzle Dazzle", "Cell Block Tango" from Chicago (1975), music by John Kandor, lyrics by Fred Ebb. The film version came out in 2002, when most of the choir would have been about 7 years old, so it's probably reasonable for them to have no idea what it is. While Moulin Rouge is obviously older, the director was Baz Luhrmann who has stayed current (also Delly and Alex are in a Film Appreciation Club and The Red Curtain Trilogy is pretty much mandatory viewing).
> 
> Other references:  
> "My precious blueberries" Community Episode 1x19: Beginner Pottery


	4. Time to Talk to Effie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick puts his plan into action.

According to Finnick they had to give Katniss a chance to explain herself before things went any further.  It was only fair.  Apparently.

And because Finnick was a total pushover and a bit of a wimp when it came to Katniss, it was up to Johanna to get the information out of their tight-lipped friend before the plan got set in motion.

Johanna found Katniss in the cafeteria picking gingerly at her packed lunch.  She made no efforts to ease into the conversation, simply plonking herself down on the bench opposite Katniss and laying it out on the table.

“What’s with you and Peeta Mellark?”

Katniss’s eyes shot up and her mouth fell open into a surprised gape.  His name alone seemed to generate the same reaction in Katniss as his presence had on Friday: Katniss was frozen in place, her expression bordering on panic. 

“Well?”

The follow-up question seemed to irritate Katniss, her shocked expression turning to an annoyed glare.  “Nothing,” she answered coolly.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Johanna pressed on undaunted.  “It can be nothing or you can not want to talk about it,” she answered breezily.  She turned her attention to her own lunch, looking distinctly bored as she pushed whatever mush the cafeteria was passing off as food around her plate. “So which is it?”

Katniss’s eyes narrowed and her expression darkened to a glower.  “It’s nothing,” she repeated.

“Cool,” Johanna answered, using Finnick’s eerily bright tone – the one he used whenever he managed to talk somebody into a corner. Her lips pulled into a wide smile so falsely sweet that it was practically Stevia.  “Cos me and Finn were talking and we totally reckon you and Peeta would make a really cute couple.”

“You have not,” Katniss scoffed disbelievingly.

“True.  Finnick talked. I pretended to listen and laughed at him when he said it,” she admitted, returning to her usual droll tone. “I mean, you’re you. And Peeta’s like . . . the boy version of Delly.

“You’d destroy him,” she concluded sombrely.

“He’s kinda cute though,” she continued, waiting for Katniss to cut in with some revealing comment.  “If you like that wholesome, farm boy thing he’s got going on.”

The other girl stayed silent, all of her attention focused or her slowly dismantling lunch.  Johanna tried to check her for any signs that this conversation was getting to her – maybe a slight flush to her skin – but all it really seemed to be doing was making the both of them uncomfortable. 

She and Katniss had been friends for a while now, but they didn’t talk about things like this.  Not about boys and attractiveness.  The closest they’d ever really come to this sort of thing was Johanna admitting that Finnick was “not unfortunate in the looks department” and that had been embedded in a seriously competitive game of truth or dare.

Maybe that was the only way around it.

“Truth or Dare?” she asked, changing her tactics.

Katniss finally looked up from her dish and eyed her suspiciously.  “Dare,” she answered firmly.

Johanna grinned.  “I dare you to tell me the truth about you and Peeta.”

Katniss shook her head in answer.  She stood from the table, clearing her scraps back into the brown paper bag they came in.  “There’s nothing to tell,” she said, sending one last scowl in Johanna’s direction as she left.

Once Katniss was out of the cafeteria, Finnick appeared from wherever he’d been hiding, taking up residence in Katniss’s recently vacated seat.

“Well?” he asked, picking at the cold chips on Johanna’s tray.  She sighed and pushed the whole thing towards him, certain that she had no interest in eating any of it.

“Fair is fair,” she said simply.  “Time for you to talk to Effie.”

* * *

 

For about ten seconds she thought she’d gotten away with it. Home free.

And then she heard it.  The click-clack of stiletto heels against the hallway. The steps too close together to be mistaken for anything but the slightly constrained gait of a woman in a ridiculously tight pencil skirt.

Then she heard her name.

“Katniss,” Miss Trinket called, quickening her steps to catch-up. Katniss stopped and turned around to face her.  “I’m so glad I ran into you.”

She tilted her head, frowning a little. “Are you on your way to class?” she asked.

Not giving anything away, Katniss provided her with an easy excuse.  An appointment with Mr Abernathy that she was already running late for and had no intention of showing up to. The doors were just two meters ahead of her, the only thing between her and freedom.

Miss Trinket’s expression shifted at the mention of her appointment.  Where any other teacher likely would have questioned what she was doing in the Science block when Mr Abernathy’s office was all the way on the other side of campus, Miss Trinket just seemed to preen a little at the History teacher’s name. “I don’t mean to keep you,” she said in a bright tone.  “Perhaps we can walk and talk on the way, hmm?”

It was a lost cause now – her desperately needed escape for the next hour or so – and Katniss had no choice but to agree. Not if she wanted to avoid a detention for skipping class.  Again.

Katniss nodded her head, her reluctance obvious, while Miss Trinket looked positively thrilled.  If Johanna hadn’t already exposed Miss Trinket’s insane little crush with last weeks colour co-ordination, Katniss might have been more surprised by this.

Miss Trinket waved a hand, ushering them down the hallway in the general direction of Mr Abernathy’s office.

“Now,” Miss Trinket began once they were moving. “Finnick came to speak to me earlier today.”

Katniss mentally grimaced, knowing that whatever it was, it was bound to end badly.  If there were one phrase that she dreaded more than any other phrase in the English language that was most certainly it.  Finnick’s involvement generally spelt out disaster for all those involved.

She waited for Miss Trinket to continue, not wanting to give anything away until she heard the whole thing.  As was her way, Miss Trinket babbled for a few moments about some trifling details before eventually arriving at whatever it was Finnick had come to speak to her about.

“I must say I was surprised by the offer,” she mused, her cheerful voice dropping a little as she mulled over said offer. Her gaze flicked towards Katniss, giving her a long, scrutinizing look.  “I had no idea the two of you were so interested in set design.”

Katniss said nothing, only risking a wary side-glance at Miss Trinket before she continued.

“Not that I’m not grateful for the offer,” Miss Trinket continued, obviously misinterpreting the look.  “Usually this sort of thing falls to me and I hardly have the time to arrange a backdrop on top of costumes and props and everything else.” She gave a tired sigh, shaking her head.

“Anyways,” she went on, tone bright and cheerful once again. “I wanted to see whether or not you were able to stay a little bit after practice today.  It will only be a half hour, so we can start sharing ideas.

“Is that okay?” she asked, inclining her head slightly to the left.

Katniss could honestly say there wasn’t a thing she wanted to do less than spend an extra half hour with Miss Trinket talking about set design of all things.  She didn’t know what Finnick was thinking with this new scheme, but he was _so_ going to owe her after this. 

She nodded her head, mentally cursing her friend for all that he was worth.

“Excellent,” Miss Trinket trilled.

Katniss waited for some kind of dismissal, but Miss Trinket continued to walk beside her.  There was definitely no getting out of her appointment today. Miss Trinket seemed determined to escort her all the way to Mr Abernathy’s office, completely oblivious to the awkwardness that had settled over them.

As they got closer, Miss Trinket’s steps quickened and Katniss reluctantly lengthened her stride to keep up.  The same click-clacking of her heels that had alerted Katniss to her presence filled the hallways, loudly echoing in the empty space. Katniss’s own steps were whisper quiet as years of bow hunting had taught her how to move without making a noise.

Miss Trinket announced them with a bright, “Knock, knock,” as she delicately tapped her knuckles against the doorframe. Mr Abernathy, who had his feet balanced on the far corner of his desk and yellow-paged tome in his lap, looked surprised to see the both of them.  As evidenced by the slight rise of his brow.

“You’re late, Everdeen,” he said disinterestedly, only lifting his eyes from the pages of his book for about half a second.

“My fault,” Miss Trinket apologised, holding a hand to her chest.  She tottered into the room, leaning her hip against the side of Mr Abernathy’s desk. He shifted his gaze towards her without moving his head, looking up at her over the rim of the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.  “I needed to speak to Katniss about our choir performance.”

She turned her head towards Katniss, sending her a beaming smile.  “Katniss and Finnick Odair have offered to help me design the set.”

That seemed to catch his interest.  He turned his head ever so slightly, lifting an eyebrow and eyeing Katniss with a suspicious look.  She ignored it and flopped down into the empty chair with deliberate nonchalance.

“Well,” Miss Trinket said after a few moments of neither of them saying a word.  “I should be going.” She pushed herself away from Mr Abernathy’s desk, sliding her hands down her sides in the pretence of straightening her skirt.  “Mr Abernathy,” she said, ducking her head slightly and giving him a long look before reminding Katniss that she’d see her later at show choir.

Mr Abernathy nodded, waving her off with a dismissive flick of his wrist, although his eyes never left her as she left the room. He waited for the loud click-clacking of her heels to fade away before turning his attention on Katniss.

“It’s nice to hear that you’re getting so involved in show choir, kiddo,” he said in an easy drawl.

Katniss glowered in response, which only seemed to amuse Mr Abernathy.  “I’m only doing it because Finnick is trying to get a date with one of the Altos,” she told him stonily.  She was going to make it absolutely clear that this was being done against her will.

Mr Abernathy shrugged, not seeming to care about her reasons. “This is the kind of thing that will look good on your application,” he said, his tone a bit more serious than she was used to.  “Showing initiative. Taking on a leadership role.

“Good work, Everdeen,” he finished, almost sounding pleased with her.

She replied with an uncertain, “Thanks,” not sure what she’d done for that compliment.  He waved his hand, repeating the same dismissive gesture he’d used to send-off Miss Trinket, and then turned his attention back to the text in his lap.

She took that for what it was – permission for her leave even though they still had another five minutes left before the appointment was over – and made her way out of the office.  She briefly considered returning to the class she’d been trying to cut earlier.  Ms Wiress, her Science teacher, hadn’t even noticed her leaving, so there was no reason to return.

So instead she made her way to the nearest exit and spent the next half hour as she’d intended.  Sitting in the sunshine and catching her breath.

* * *

Practice had gone rather swimmingly by Effie’s estimation. In no time at all the clock was closing in on five, and they’d already started working on two new songs for their set. Her students were excited about the upcoming performance, with several of them already pitching ideas for dances, costumes, and song arrangements.

It was small degree of regret that she dismissed the students at the end of practice.  Alex Li, one of the most promising musicians from her senior Music class, lingered for a few moments, but she waved him off with a promise to talk more in tomorrow’s class.  He had some interesting ideas regarding the arrangement for “Cell Block Tango” that were definitely worth exploring.

That left just Katniss Everdeen and Finnick Odair.

The two students seemed, to Effie, to be as different as two people could be.  Finnick was charming and outgoing, while Katniss was always so sullen and withdrawn. Effie felt as though she were constantly reminding one of them to smile, and the other one to stop chatting.

As expected, Finnick was already chatting away to Katniss, who was rolling her eyes at whatever the charming Tenor had to say. Effie pulled her chair over to where the two were sitting, happy to have the first meeting run quite casually. There’d be time for a meeting agenda later once they were past the introductory stage.

She’d admittedly been rather surprised when Finnick came to see her that morning.  Neither student really struck her as the artistic type – she knew both were into their athletics, but she also knew better than to assume that one precluded the other. What more, Katniss had seemed a reluctant member of Show Choir, so it was surprising to find her _volunteering_ for additional choir responsibilities.

Perhaps it was a sign that Katniss was slowly warming up to Show Choir.  The possibility rekindled Effie’s dying hopes of having Katniss sing solo.  It was rather a shame that such a lovely voice came in such a begrudging package.

“Now,” she began cheerfully, pen poised in hand, “I’m sure you both have simply thousands of ideas you’d like to share.

“Bear in mind,” she put in, before they could start thinking too far out of the box, “that we won’t really have the time for set changes or moving props around the stage.  We need to keep things relatively simple, but with pizazz.”  Effie had always been rather expressive in her gestures and the jazz hands that accompanied her desire for “pizazz” were almost unconscious.

Katniss and Finnick shared a wary look, but before she had time to scrutinize it a two-beat knock sounded at the door, drawing the attention of their little group.  In the doorway stood a stocky, blond-haired boy looking somewhat unsure of himself. Effie didn’t recognize him, however, she seemed to be alone in that respect.

Finnick was on his feet, greeting the new boy with an appreciative, “oh good, you made it,” and waving him over to where they seated.  Katniss, Effie noted, was staring doggedly at the floor and refusing to make eye contact.

As was only proper, Effie stood to greet the newcomer, who politely introduced himself as Peeta Mellark.  The surname was familiar and now that she had a name, she could see some similarities to what was obviously an older brother, Bannock Mellark, who was a surprisingly adept clarinettist.

“Peeta’s a bit of an artist,” Finnick said just as she was about to ask what had brought Peeta to the music room. “I was thinking he might be able to help us with the set.”

And that was when Effie knew that Finnick was up to something. The Tenor was smiling far too broadly and looking far too charming for her to reach any other conclusion. It was simply a question of what, and whether or not this was something that she needed to be nipping in the bud before it turned into a big something.

“I . . . uh, did some sketches,” Peeta said with an edge of uncertainty.  He glanced between herself and Finnick, having clearly reached the same conclusion that she had. After a moment he simply shrugged, deciding not to get into it else he might become an accomplice, and pulled a notebook out of his satchel.

“I tried to give it an Art Deco feel,” he said, handing over the book.  “But there are a few that tend more to Futurism and Surrealism.”

The words didn’t mean much to Effie – she’d never had much interest in Art History – but what she saw when she opened the sketchbook took her breath away.  Detailed sketches of a city skyline filled with opulent, stylized buildings. Tall and imposing structures casting ominous shadows over cluttered streets.  Dark and dynamic images with a sense of glitz and glamour that was really nothing more than a thin veneer.

“These are wonderful,” she awed as she flipped through the pages, just barely lifting her gaze from the work to look at their maker. “You’re very talented, Peeta.”

He flushed slightly from the praise, ducking his head and muttering a modest thanks.

“These must have taken hours,” she said, awing at the detail put into them.  Each sketch was so detailed and so different from the last.  It was clear he’d put a lot of work into them, even if he shrugged off the compliment and assured her it was nothing.

She turned to the next page, finding a small portrait sketched into a corner rather than the full page landscapes that detailed the previous pages. It was just as detailed as the others, in spite of its small size, but the mood of the pictures was completely different. The others were ominous and almost impersonal, while this last little sketch felt wistful and intimate.

The sketch depicted pretty girl with her eyes closed and a small smile on her lips. 

The sight of that smile was such a rarity that it took her a moment to realize that the pretty, peaceful looking girl in the picture was Katniss Everdeen.

Effie quickly shut the sketchbook before anyone else caught a glimpse of the pictures.  Although surely Finnick already knew, or had some kind of guess. It certainly explained his sudden interest in set design and why he and Katniss just _had_ to help her with the backdrop. 

“Well, Peeta, I would be honoured to have your help,” she said with a warm smile on her face.  “And as the founding members of our set team, I’m sure that Katniss and Finnick will be happy to be of assistance.”

Her smile widened and she clapped her hands in a solitary cheer.  “How wonderful,” she said brightly, not giving her most reluctant student the chance to disagree. “I can’t wait to see how it all turns out.”

Katniss still wasn’t looking at anything but the floor, although Effie was sure that she detected a groan.  Peeta was looking flattered and maybe little confused about how the meeting had played out.  It was, Effie thought, a shame that he didn’t realize how talented he was.

Finnick was smiling as broadly as ever and when she met his gaze, he lifted his chin ever so slightly and gave her a deliberate wink. He was most definitely up to something, and Effie was quite certain that she had just made herself an accomplice.


End file.
